


Recalibration

by PrinceofHellebore (PrinceofPlants)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 18 mo gap, Intricate Rituals, M/M, Pining, Pre Relationship, Prosthesis, Reference to Injury, alcohol mention, limited resolution, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceofPlants/pseuds/PrinceofHellebore
Summary: Zolf's leg jams and needs to be recalibrated.  Oscar is the only one with slender enough fingers.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	Recalibration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [3_modes_Ace_Kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3_modes_Ace_Kat/gifts).



Oscar was aware of Zolf moving into the room. He’d missed dinner, probably. In a moment, a plate would edge first into the periphery of his vision and then cross into his line of sight and finally it would occupy the space in front of his face, undeniable in it’s existence. And Zolf would stand there until Oscar set aside his pen and took up the provided utensil instead. There was often a great deal of huffing and sighing involved. Oscar didn’t intend to miss Zolf’s cooking but ever since he’d spent the week in quarantine after his mistake, he’d never felt that he could make up for the time and intelligence it had lost them. And so he worked every hour he could, following any and every angle he could conceive of. So a missed meal was what he expected but after a moment when no alluring aroma caught at his nose, Oscar looked up. Zolf knelt on the other side of the low table Oscar used as a desk but did not have a tray with him. 

“Hello, Zolf.” He said, it was unusual for Zolf to interrupt with anything that could wait. 

“Hey,” he seemed… nervous wasn’t quite it. 

“Problem?”

“Uh…” Zolf opened his mouth and then shut it. Oscar scanned his face quickly, then his hands and bare forearms. There were no marks, no blue veins visible. Not that they couldn’t be hidden. Oscar straightened his back and pulled away from the desk, to give himself space to fight or flee. He had a dagger in a sheath up his sleeve. He’d never go unarmed again, not after his mistake. Oscar reached for the hilt and his heartbeat quickened. But Zolf was safe. He’d spent the last week in quarantine and there hadn’t been any other points of risk. Oscar took a breath and tried to calm the pounding.

“May I see your hand?” Zolf held his own out, palm upturned. Oscar hesitated, thrown by the curious nature of the request. He withdrew his hand from up his sleeve and placed it in Zolf’s. He could feel his heartbeat thumping at his throat, echoed in his wrist. He wondered if Zolf could feel how flighty it was, feel how Oscar’s fingers tremor-ed slightly. 

Zolf took his wrist and then lined up his other hand with Oscar’s, palm to palm. He looked at them intensely and so did Oscar. Oscar’s own fingers were long and slender but Zolf’s palm was wider than his. Oscar was initially dumbfounded by the interaction before he thought of a lewd quip. He held his tongue though. He’d learned over the months together that Zolf didn’t appreciate those directed at him. “That should do, better than mine anyway. Usually ask this of Carter, but since he’s out…” Oscar’s mind was racing to try to find the conversation’s direction and end point.

“What is this about?” Oscar asked, allowing suspicion to bleed into his voice. 

“One of my legs has locked up. I can fix it once it’s off but its caught on the port and I can’t get my fingers in to free whatever’s jamming it.” Oscar’s mind slipped back over the memory of Zolf entering the room. His gait had been irregular and he’d taken more than a moment to kneel while Oscar sat ignoring him in favor of his work. 

“Oh, right.” He stood to come around the desk and Zolf let go of his hand as he rose. The light was as good here as it would be anywhere though it was probably a solution found more by feel than sight. Oscar knelt beside Zolf and then reached for the oil lamp, pulling it close and turning it up. The flame grew and brightened. “What do I need to do?”

Zolf turned onto his hip and physically dragged his left leg from below himself. He turned something and a narrow gap was created as a separation just below where the flesh of his thigh ended. Zolf grimmaced slightly. “It’s done this once before, on a mission, fortunately we were in a safe house at the time. Carter was able to… not actually sure what he did, but something is stopping it from coming freely apart the way it’s supposed to.”

Oscar shuffled a little closer and then slipped the index and middle fingers of one hand into the gap. He was intensely aware of Zolf sitting inches from him, just breathing, waiting patiently for Oscar to complete this strangely intimate task. Oscar gathered his focus on the problem. The metal was body warm under his fingertips. After a moment of exploration he found a part that shifted. He prodded it experimentally. There were several more like it and then something the same shape that didn’t give in the same way and was most likely the problem. “I think I found the issue.” Oscar tried several angles and combinations to remove the pressure from the pin and free it but couldn’t. There was something adding to the problem: probably the weight of the prosthesis pulling on it from an angle in its half connection and suspension. “Can we shift, I think the way it’s half on is causing a problem with unlatching the pin that’s stuck.”

After some discussion they ended with Zolf sitting to Oscar’s left, his leg across Oscar’s lap. His thigh weighed heavy and distracting across Oscar’s. Oscar swallowed and bent again to the task. He was aware of Zolf closer to him than either of them had ever allowed before. Even when Zolf had stitched the slash across his face it had been with meticulous care not to touch more than necessary. Even so Oscar could still feel the ghosts of Zolf’s fingers around the fresh scar, on his brow, across his lips. Oscar settled his hands so that he didn’t so much as brush the bare flesh of Zolf’s thigh even if it made the angle of his hand awkward and ineffectual.

As if Zolf could read Oscar’s thoughts he said. “It’s alright to touch me.” Oscar glanced at Zolf’s face, his lips were just there. It would be easy to turn and bend, and kiss him. The thought was familiar, though it was rare it crossed his mind when he was sober. “You’ll probably have to if you want to do that.”

Oscar’s thoughts scattered and then he realized that Zolf had gestured at the configuration of Oscar’s hands and hadn't read his mind. Oscar lowered his wrist so that it rested against the join of skin and metal, it seemed to him it should scald the heel of his hand. The thought of his palm sliding up towards Zolf’s hip pulled at his attention. Oscar positioned his fingers and pinched the pin, then tilted and twisted Zolf’s knee and shin. The prosthesis came free. 

Zolf reached forward and lifted it from his grip. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” They still sat close. Closer than they ever had. As close as Oscar wished they would more often. Zolf started to move away. Oscar turned his hand so that it rested fully on Zolf’s thigh. “Wait…”

“What?”

“Stay… I mean, work in here. The light’s as good here as anywhere. I can get your tools for you.”

Zolf stared at him for a moment and then the oil lamp. “Sure, they’re in my room, that’s where I was going to work.”

Oscar extracted himself from Zolf’s lap and left the study. In the minutes that it took him to climb to the upper level and find Zolf’s tools, he’d conducted the rote argument of how terrible an idea it was to express affection towards Zolf. Their circumstances were reason enough, and Zolf only recently seemed to have reached a basic tolerance for him. The change had coincided with Oscar earning his new scar. He could live off the scraps of regard and companionship he already received, no reason to ruin what he did have, not when it would be fool-hardy to have more, to have something too precious to lose.

Oscar had brought Zolf’s lamp back as well and lit it from his own. He handed Zolf the cloth roll of tools and then settled back on the other side of the table. Zolf’s quiet company, working across from him was so close to what Oscar wished, but for all his reasoning and argument against loving Zolf, this wasn’t satisfactory or enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Love,  
> Prince of Hellebore


End file.
